


Shaking Hands

by givemeunicorns



Series: CritRole hurt/comfort Collection [1]
Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Gen, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Touch-Starved, Triggers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-02
Updated: 2019-10-02
Packaged: 2020-11-10 15:54:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20854361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/givemeunicorns/pseuds/givemeunicorns
Summary: Caleb has a moment and Caduceus reads him like a book.Prompt fill for whumptober day 1: Shaking Hands





	Shaking Hands

“Mr. Caleb, are you sure you don't need any healing?” Caduceus asked, in his quiet, unintrusive way.  
Caleb turned from his work rooting through the corpse's pockets, the only one in the room not burned black in the face from Caleb's firebolt, and nodded. 

“I'm sure,” he replied, a tad confused. Caleb never failed to let the clerics know when he was in need of assistance. He was well aware that what he made up for in mind he very much lacked in matter. “Why do you ask?”  
The firbolg lumbered closer, graceful in his odd way, and stood, towering over Caleb while he leaned on his staff.

“Your hands,” he said quietly, in low tones that kept the conversation between them, “they're shaking.”  
Caleb sat back on his heels, clenched his fists. He'd been so much better lately, but sometimes...sometimes the fire still overpowered him. These had been bad men, he assured himself, men that meant to hurt people, had hurt people. Men that would have hurt more people if he hadn't stopped them. His power had meaning now, real meaning. Things were better than they had been, these feelings didn't stop him in his tracks, send him spiraling back to a dark room with only his own madness for company, the way they once had. At least, not as often. But it didn't completely stop the way his body reacted to the fire, the animal need to run, the heart pounding, cold sweating, bone shaking panic that filled him up and over flowed him. Bad men or no, the fight had been hard and their deaths had been ugly. He hadn't felt this shaken by the fire in a long while. Still he caught himself, tried to push it down, power through. He just needed a moment...

But of course, Caduceus saw. He saw everything, it seemed.

“I'm fine,” Caleb said, around a half hearted smile, “Sometimes, the fire just...rattles me.”

The firbolg squatted down across the body from him as Caleb finished riffling through pockets, mushrooms blooming on the corpse as Caduceus cast his spells. 

“Like Nott and the water,” he said, thoughtfully, watching the life spring from the bodies, something new out of something old and, not for the first time, Caleb wished he could see the world the way their Mr. Clay did. All cycles of meaning, old from new, a world bright even in it's bleakness and beautiful in it's brutality, simultaneous intensely complex and incredibly simple. 

But he didn't see the world that way, he saw it only as it was, a pile of rats crawling and bitting and tearing each other to shreds to get to the top, and in the thick of it, good people just trying to stay alive. Caleb chewed the inside of his cheek. He was good with thoughts but sometimes words were harder and he didn't have the words to explain to Clay how different his situation was from Nott's. Her future had stolen from her, and Caleb would do everything in his power to get it back. His though, his he set alight all on his own. The Cerberus Assembly had taught Caleb to harness his power, they had manipulated it, yes, but he was the weapon and weapons killed people. It was what they were created to do. Every death he mourned, had come at his own hand. 

“Not quite,” Caleb replied, uncomfortable with the comparison.

Caduceus cocked his head to the side, pink braid spilling over his shoulder and fixing Caleb with a look that made him feel suddenly, even smaller than he was. As if the cleric could see right through his skin, right into the clockwork machinations of his mind. It was not unkind, not judgmental or scrutinizing, more like someone looking at a complicated knot and figuring out how to best untangle it and some how, that made the feeling worse. 

“How so?” he asked, crossing his elbows over his knees, thoughtful in a ways that made Caleb's mouth dry, made his hands shake even harder. A reminder that if they could see the rotted thing living under his ribs, they'd all run screaming, and if anyone could suss that out, it would be Mr. Clay. The wizard shrugged, looked away as he stood, needing to put some distance between himself and the smell of charred flesh. This body wasn't burned, the one had been Molly's work, but suddenly, he felt like he couldn't get away from the smell.

“Nott is afraid of water because of something that was done to her. The fire is...hard for me because of something I did.”

Caduceus looked up at him, brows tugging down in an expression of concern that dug at him like a knife in the ribs. Caleb shoved his shaking hands into the pockets of his coat. 

“Mr. Caleb, I don't mean to over step my bounds, but I want to be clear... do think what happened to you was you're fault?” he asked, quietly, cautiously.

A harsh bark of bitter laughter, sharp as blood in his mouth, escaped him before he could stop it. 

“I executed my family Caduceus. It was my fault.”

Caducues leaned on his staff again, and thought for a moment, before he spoke again.

“The way I understood the story you told us, this Ikithon fellow and his Scourgers, they used you. He experimented on you. He filled your head with not just lies, but false memories. He made you think things were real when they weren't. He isolated you. He groomed you. He made you hurt people and then he hid you away to cover it up. You were taken from your home and your family, made into something you didn't recognize. You were scared and alone. You have seen the worst of what people can do, but you chose to be better anyway. That doesn't sound all that different to me. ”

“Yes but...” Caleb started, searching for the words. 

Carefully, Caduceus closed the space between them. His movements were slow and careful, giving Caleb the chance to step away, to disengage, before a broad hand came to rest in the curve of his neck, cradling his jaw. His soft, furred palm was warm against Caleb's clammy cheek and he shuddered, eyes slipping closed as a breath he didn't remember holding shuttered painfully out of his chest. He leaned into the touch without meaning to, cursed himself for it, for needing these people, knowing full well he'd never done a damn thing in his life to deserve them. 

“You were a child and that man used you. He took your trust and he betrayed it. You didn't get a say in the thing he molded you into. I've seen monsters, so have you, and you're not one of them,” Caduceus said, his voice so gentle in made Caleb ache, right down to his bones.

“Are you so certain?” He asked, meeting the soft, pink gaze that stared at him with a wisdom he'd never really been able to find a name for. The firblog smiled, sad, but genuine. 

“Monsters don't protect frightened goblin girls, and try and find a way to bring her back to her family. A monster wouldn't care about the places like the Blooming Grove. A monster wouldn't worry about the lives and futures and goals and saftey of these people.”

He looked around at their friends and Caleb followed his gaze. Molly was pouring coins into Yasha's outstretched hand, smiling broadly at some private joke between them, while Nott was busy trying to pry a ruby setting from one of the mosaic. Jester was busy painting a dick on the wall while Beau laughed, and Fjord, watched, his face full of warm affection. Caleb found his own hand reaching for Caduceus, fingers curling around the Firbolg's slender wrist.

“You would burn yourself to nothing, if it meant keeping us warm. You've done it, time and again. And if I knew nothing else about you, Caleb Widogast, that would be enough for me to know, you're no monster. You're a man, with a past, same as the rest of us. No better, no worse.”

For a moment, Caleb found himself shocked to silence, his own vicious mind gone quiet for a breath. These people, for all their faults never ceased to astound him. 

“Hey are you guys cool?” Beau called, startling Caleb out of his thoughts. They were all watching him now, every face a look of mild concern. He pulled away and Caduceus let him, hand falling to his side as he fixed her with his usual, placid grin. 

“I think so. Mr. Caleb just needed a little bit of patching up, that's all,” he called, wandering back to the group.

Caleb rubbed the back of his neck, skin still warm from the firbolg's touch. His hands weren't shaking so badly anymore.


End file.
